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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: The Storm of Eton (2)
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Having quickly hit it off with Robert, I followed his lead on a tour of the school's various facilities.
In the morning, I received detailed explanations about the classrooms, library, chapel, and sports facilities, etching a complete map of the campus into my mind.
Afterward, the new students gathered in one place for a break, dozing off as John Keate delivered an excessively long-winded speech.
In the afternoon, we had lunch and went through a round of introductions that was more about family lineage than about ourselves. After that, we received a brief overview of the classes we would be taking.
Eton's curriculum was heavily focused on the classics—Latin, Greek, and ancient history—as well as English literature, mathematics, and religious studies.
Once all the formal proceedings were over, Robert took me around to introduce the official clubs active at Eton.
"You there! You look sharp. Why not join the debate society? If you're graduating from Eton, you must have ambitions of entering politics, right? Our debate society is the perfect fit for you!"
"You pitiable souls who don't know the splendor of literature! Come fall in love with literature with us at the literary society!"
"A sound mind in a sound body! For the future leaders of this country, enjoying cricket is not a choice but a duty!"
Besides these, there were various other clubs that all students could join, focusing on music, drama, natural history, and science.
They felt less like high school clubs and more like modern university societies in their serious, full-fledged atmosphere, which was quite impressive.
"Robert, is there any particular club you'd recommend? You mentioned the social gathering we're headed to is an unofficial club anyway."
"Well, that really depends on your personality and interests. The more active nobles usually play a lot of cricket. Those who prefer quieter pursuits often join the music or classics clubs. Speaking of which, do you know how to play cricket?"
"Ah…"
In my first life, I was born and raised in the Republic of Korea, and in my second, I grew up in Joseon until two years ago. How on earth would I know how to play cricket?
It was a foregone conclusion.
I could play baseball, but unfortunately, in this era, the sport of baseball likely hadn't even been invented yet.
Even if it had, British society would never acknowledge it, so it was better to just keep my mouth shut.
Cricket, of all things.
It was a blind spot I hadn't even considered, so consumed was I with making money.
I wondered why Wellesley or James hadn't mentioned it, but perhaps to them, cricket was as natural as breathing, something they simply forgot to bring up.
Even Robert was staring at me with wide eyes, seemingly unable to comprehend my subtle reaction.
"Hey, you really don't know how to play cricket?"
"I'll have to learn. Fortunately, I'm a quick study."
"Then don't join a club for now. Let's hire a coach for the weekends. I'll help out whenever I have time, too."
"Thank you!"
From what I heard, cricket in this era was more than just a sport; it was considered a means to display not only social status and athletic ability but also leadership.
The time had come for me to transform the baseball DNA flowing through my veins into that of cricket.
I never imagined the day would come when I'd have to play cricket, but what could I do?
If I wanted to assimilate more smoothly into British society, I had to play by the rules they loved.
I'd have to contact James right away and ask him to find an expert for private cricket lessons.
But my predicament was only momentary.
The thought of receiving an elite education here at Eton alongside Britain's finest talents was a little exciting.
No matter how far in the past, this was a prestigious institution that nurtured the nation's top leaders, so the quality of education must be superb…
Unfortunately, that illusion was shattered in just one week.
The general educational policy of Eton, and indeed of most public schools at the time, could be summed up in a single sentence.
-Rote learning is the absolute truth, and no more perfect method of education can exist in this world.
What a dreadful, terrifying thought.
The emphasis on creativity and the promotion of critical thinking that modern Europe prides itself on were nowhere to be found in this era.
It was a classic case of education failing to keep up with a changing world.
"Ah, so, if we interpret this sentence from Cicero…"
It's not that the classics are bad, but staring at Latin and Greek literature day in and day out was enough to give me a headache from sheer boredom.
We did learn mathematics and science, but they were given far less weight than the classics, and even those subjects were mostly taught through memorization.
"Alright, we will have a test tomorrow. The scope is from here to here. The test format will be to write down every single letter from the book. You'll lose points for every letter you get wrong, so prepare accordingly."
For crying out loud. At this point, I couldn't tell if this was studying or a memorization and recitation test.
Debate or critical thinking? There was no room for such things. It was a continuous process of simply receiving and retaining information.
Instead of taking detailed notes like modern students, we memorized the professor's words, which were recited straight from the lecture.
After class, we would recite it back, and our performance was graded on how well we did.
Under these conditions, how could the quality of the teachers' lectures possibly be any good?
Even if it was rote learning, it was on a completely different level from the instructors teaching in the cram school districts of modern-day Korea.
Thanks to this system, I had perfectly mastered the method for excelling at Eton within two weeks.
First, you memorize. If you can't memorize it, you memorize it again. If there are still parts you haven't memorized, you memorize and memorize until you have.
Do this, and you can become an outstanding model student beloved by all the teachers.
Simple, right?
Fortunately, since I possessed a memory that never forgot information once perceived, the classes were a breeze.
The only problem was that they were mind-numbingly boring.
No, it was beyond boring; it was practically poison.
What if my precious knowledge of finance and accounting got pushed to a corner of my brain while I was busy memorizing the orations of Plato or Cicero?
Of course, contrary to these inner thoughts, I pretended to be diligently engaged in classes and exams, so my reputation was soaring by the day.
"Oh! Killian Gore, another perfect recitation. You truly follow the lessons well."
"Thank you, sir. Your easy-to-understand teaching style makes it easier to memorize."
"If only all the other students were like you. It's still early in the term, but if you keep this up, you could become the top student among this year's freshmen. Continue to strive for excellence."
"Yes, sir! I will continue to do my best."
This was the first time in my life I'd received a compliment that brought me no joy.
It took only a fortnight for my initial thought that coming to Eton was a great idea to curdle into the suspicion that I had made a mistake.
Still, Robert's promised tea time with the graduates was this weekend.
For now, all I could do was wait for that day and endure these tedious ones.
It had been a very long time since I'd looked forward to a weekend this much.
* * *
"Good afternoon, senior!"
"Welcome back to our alma mater!"
"Boys, it's been four years since I graduated. Don't be so stiff; treat me comfortably."
"You may be a graduate, sir, but we are still students. We cannot do that!"
The strict hierarchy between upperclassmen and underclassmen, a tradition at Eton, was no exception even at this unofficial gathering.
There were only about ten students present, but every one of them was the scion of a renowned noble family or a powerful magnate from London.
Three graduates attended the tea time, but my gaze was fixed on just one man.
My attention was focused on a young man, impeccably dressed in a black suit, his face framed by wavy sideburns.
Fortunately, Robert, who had brought me here, seemed to have considerable influence in this group, as he immediately introduced me to him.
"Sir, this is Killian Gore, a new student who entered this year. He is the eldest son of the Earl of Aran from Ireland, and a prodigy whose letter of recommendation was personally written by His Grace the Duke of Wellington."
"The Duke of Wellington, you say?"
"Yes. And come to think of it, didn't you attend the school around the same time as His Grace's sons? Killian is also acquainted with the Duke's son, so in a way, you might already be connected."
Upon hearing the Duke of Wellington's name, the young man, William Gladstone, nodded and looked my way.
"Do you happen to know a Charles Wellesley? He should be a major in the army by now."
"Yes. I still meet with the major from time to time."
"Is that so? What a strange coincidence. I was quite involved with him here at Eton. We both went on to Christ Church, Oxford, as well. Though he did end up transferring to Cambridge midway through."
"Actually, when I came for my interview, Major Wellesley accompanied me. At the time, he and the headmaster briefly mentioned you, sir. They praised you to the heavens, saying what an exceptionally brilliant student you were."
"I wasn't that remarkable. You're embarrassing me."
As Gladstone smiled bashfully and shook his head, Robert, who had been waiting for an opening, quickly interjected.
"How could you not be? I heard that His Grace the Duke of Newcastle will be supporting your candidacy in the Newark constituency. If you're elected right after graduating from university, you'll be entering the House of Commons at an age similar to that of William Pitt, won't you? I have the utmost respect for you, sir!"
"That's only if I get elected."
"You will definitely be elected, sir! My father also sang your praises, saying you are a talent who could become the future hope of the Tory Party."
From the situation and conversation so far, I deduced that Gladstone was planning to run for office this year as a member of the Tory Party.
As far as I knew, unlike his political rival Disraeli, he was elected on his first try, which meant he would be entering the House of Commons this year.
But the Gladstone I knew was the great Prime Minister who represented the Liberal Party. Why was he a Tory?
If he was a Liberal, shouldn't he be with the Whig Party?
I considered the possibility of him being a different person with the same name, but given his age and the timing of his entry into politics, that was unlikely.
The only conclusion, then, was that he would switch parties at some point. On reflection, it didn't seem all that strange.
Changing one's political stance in youth could easily happen with the right catalyst.
So, from my perspective, would it be better to let Gladstone follow history and break with the Conservative Party, or would it be more advantageous to keep him here?
I couldn't make a judgment yet, but one thing was certain: maintaining a personal connection with him would not be a disadvantage in any scenario.
Fortunately, I didn't have to force myself on him; Gladstone himself showed considerable interest and struck up a conversation with me.
"But Killian, you said you would inherit an Irish peerage, correct? Does that mean you plan to be active in Ireland after you graduate?"
"I haven't thought about that in detail yet, sir."
"Is that so? I imagine the senior members of our party would hope you take on such a role. Frankly, Ireland cannot continue as it is. It's being held together by force for now, but if things continue this way, it will bring no good to this country in the long run."
The Duke of Wellington and others interested in Ireland had one thing in common.
They viewed Ireland as a ticking time bomb.
In this year's election alone, Daniel O'Connell, the representative of Ireland, had announced his candidacy by founding his own party, signaling turmoil ahead.
It was only natural for young men like Gladstone to harbor such concerns.
Given that Gladstone was known to be a man who valued justice and religious conviction, he would have been especially interested in such matters.
For me, it was a chance to naturally connect over a common topic, which wasn't a bad thing at all for the sake of building rapport.
"I am still young and do not know the details, but my father has certainly expressed his concerns from time to time. Of course, I too intend to devote myself without hesitation to anything I can do for the future unification of this country."
"Yes. A very admirable sentiment. The world is changing so rapidly these days, and I worry as I see fundamental justice and morality crumbling. In the short term, this trend might not seem like a problem, but it will never benefit the nation in the long run. Yet people are so short-sighted. In times like these, we young people must live our lives with a firm sense of justice."
"I think so too. As the world changes, more and more strange people are appearing. There are people who make money by deceiving others through fraud, and their numbers keep growing."
I had just been agreeing with him without much thought, but a shadow momentarily crossed Gladstone's face.
"You're absolutely right. I did give it up as soon as I registered for the election, but I had initially planned to build my reputation by practicing as a lawyer. But you know what's funny? The moment I announced I was registering as a lawyer, acquaintances who had been scammed came clamoring for my help. It just goes to show how many people around us have been victimized without anyone knowing."
"I suppose many people can't bring themselves to admit they've been swindled. They probably hide it because they know they won't get their money back and will only be criticized for being foolish enough to fall for it?"
"Exactly. My acquaintances probably only told me because they thought I might be able to help as a lawyer. But as a rookie lawyer, there was nothing I could do."
"Have you tried reporting it to the recently established London police?"
I asked, already knowing the answer, and received a reply that was exactly as I expected.
"I tried, but it was no use. The ones I was looking into were con artists using railway stocks, and it seems they've been greasing some palms in the police force. The moment they sense the police are onto them, they shut down their company and start operating under a different name. They're truly disgusting pests. If I get elected this time, I intend to thoroughly investigate them and put them away for good."
Did I just stumble upon some useful information in an unexpected place?
I was just about to look for some prey to test the information-gathering capabilities of my newly formed organization. A railway-related case seemed to be the perfect scale.
As naturally as possible, I agreed with Gladstone's words and cast my line.
"That's truly a serious problem. I don't understand why there are so many bad people in the world. But my father has also been showing a lot of interest in railways lately, so now I'm concerned… If it's not too much trouble, could I hear a bit more about the case?"
"Of course. Robert, this will be helpful for you to hear as well, not just Killian. If you know anyone who says they're buying railway stocks, be sure to warn them to be careful."
I straightened my posture and listened intently to Gladstone.
Now then, shall we hear what kind of trash has been diligently amassing a fortune, just to offer it up to me?